


Legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold

by Madalena



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Bane Chronicles - Sarah Rees Brennan & Cassandra Clare & Maureen Johnson
Genre: High Warlock, Implied/Referenced Sex, Jewelry, M/M, Magnus' rings, Warlock Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 16:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13485336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madalena/pseuds/Madalena
Summary: "All of my jewelry means something to me. Unlike other parts of my wardrobe, and often other parts of my life… they’re a constant. I use them to ground myself sometimes. They remind me of important parts of my past. They are a lot of what make me… me, for lack of a better phrase."----Alec asks Magnus about his rings. Magnus tells him the story of how he became the High Warlock of Brooklyn.





	Legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Spoilers for "Saving Raphael Santiago", one of the stories in the Bane Chronicles.
> 
> So we never really see when or how Magnus becomes the High Warlock of Brooklyn. So this is my personal headcanon on how it could have happened, and how what happened with Raphael could have been the catalyst to Magnus taking on more responsibility in the Shadow World.
> 
> Title is from "Centuries" by Fall Out Boy.

Alec had always been fascinated by Magnus’ jewelry.

Or, more specifically, the fact that Magnus seemed to have just the right amount for his everyday wear - each day, he wore almost the same rings, the same necklaces, the same ear cuff. Unlike his makeup, and his clothes, both of which changed with his moods, Magnus’ jewelry stayed the same.

One day when they were lounging in bed after a thoroughly satisfying round of morning sex, and Alec didn’t have to be at the Institute until evening, he decided to ask Magnus about them.

He ran his fingers over the big chunky ring with Magnus’ first initial, M. Besides the sharp claw like ring Magnus sometimes wore on his middle finger, this was the one that Alec had noticed first.

“Tell me about your rings.” Alec asked.

“What do you want to know about them?” Magnus asked airily, the tone of voice being one that Alec recognized as ‘ask carefully, and be specific about your questions otherwise you won’t get the answers you’re looking for’.

“I… well, it just seems like a lot of the other parts of your appearance change regularly. You’ve got more clothes than I’ve ever owned in my entire life. Your makeup is different every day - maybe not everyone notices, but I notice the subtle differences. How some days you’ve got dark brown eyeshadow, instead of black. Or some days you’ve got the stuff with sparkles, and other days it isn’t there -”

“I never knew you paid so much attention to my appearance, Alexander.”

Alec blushed. “I pay attention to everything about you. And that’s how I’ve noticed - your rings, your necklaces - they don’t change as much as your clothes or makeup. While you hoard clothes like a troll, you don’t do the same with jewelry, despite your claims to the Institute of liking to be paid in precious gems.”

“First of all, Alexander, trolls are not nearly as well dressed as me. They wouldn’t know what to do with my wardrobe. Second… all of my jewelry means something to me. Unlike other parts of my wardrobe, and often other parts of my life… they’re a constant. I use them to ground myself sometimes. They remind me of important parts of my past. They are a lot of what make me… me, for lack of a better phrase.”

“And I love what makes you you. Never doubt that.”

“I don’t.”

“Then will you? Please? Tell me some of the stories that go with these rings?”

Magnus nodded, kissing Alec’s temple. “All right. Since you asked so nicely.”

Magnus lifted his hand up, surveying his rings, settling on the one that Alec had been touching earlier, the one with his initial. “Well… the story to this one isn’t as nice as some of the others. But it is one of the important ones, I guess you could say.”

“I’m listening.” Alec pressed a reassuring kiss to Magnus’ pectoral muscle.

“You know how werewolves and vampires choose their pack or clan leaders, right?”

“Mmmm. Someone who wants to be the leader challenges the current leader. If they kill the current leader, they take over.”

“Right.” Magnus nodded. “Warlocks… warlocks are a bit different. It doesn’t involve such a violent challenge. Both parties can still survive, though that doesn’t always happen. Depends on the scenario. There is still a challenge, but then it involves a political and magical game to claim the title. Can be quite long-winded, and more than once the reason both participants live is because one of the parties gives up and says that the other wins.”

“Political and magical game?”

“We - well, a High Warlock - is a position that often requires not only taking care of the warlocks in a territory, as it were, but also most other Downworlders. Just not Seelies, Seelies always take care of their own. But abandoned werewolves, lost vampires… they can all end up in a High Warlock’s charge, like as not. Until I can find a place for them with a clan or pack. So it carries a great deal more responsibility than other Downworld positions - save for that of the Seelie Queen, of course. But she never changes. No one would dare.

“Anyway. It may surprise you, Alexander, but I haven’t been the High Warlock of Brooklyn forever. I’d been living in New York since the 1920s, but I only became the High Warlock in the 1950s. Because the old High Warlock of New York wasn’t doing his job.” Magnus’ voice hardened.

“I’m not just the High Warlock of Brooklyn, you understand. All five boroughs and a great deal of Long Island and New Jersey are also a part of my territory. Brooklyn’s just the most fashionable, which is why I use it in my title.”

“Funny, most would say Manhattan.”

“Manhattan is _trendy_. But Brooklyn is where the real artists live. No matter. The point is, the old High Warlock, he was derelict in his duty. Most obviously so when an elder vampire came to New York and started killing mundanes, particularly children. The vampires were afraid of him, they wouldn’t do a damn thing, so then that responsibility should have fallen to the High Warlock.”

“What about the Shadowhunters? What were they doing?”

“If I’d gone to the _Shadowhunters_ of that time with this, they just would’ve set the whole DuMort on fire and been done with it.” Magnus said sternly. “Say what you want about some vampires, but all of them didn’t deserve such a fate. The Shadowhunters were investigating the murders, sure, but without any bodies, and just rumours swirling around about it being vampires, there wasn’t anything they could really do. But as a Downworlder, I could. And I did.”

“You challenged the High Warlock.”

“Not at first. I’d been trying to avoid the Downworld as a whole, as much as I could, anyway. Too much bad blood after a few decades of rivalries and fights. But a mother came to me, and told me her son had been taken by vampires. Well, she didn’t use that word specifically, it was a Spanish word for a vampire-like creature, but I understood well enough.”

“Was she mundane? Why did she come to you?”

“I had a business as a private detective at the time. Specializing in the spooky.” Magnus waggled his fingers. “Anyway, this young man had fallen in with the wrong crowd, and that crowd came into the attention of this ancient vampire. They had disappeared in the vicinity of the DuMort, so putting things together wasn’t hard. So I went to the DuMort in search of them. The clan vice-leader let me in quite reluctantly, knowing that I was powerful and known to the local Downworld, and that I’d -”

Magnus broke off suddenly.

“Clan’s vice-leader.” Alec said carefully. “That means their leader was… Camille, wasn’t it?”

“It was. She was.” Magnus said softly. “But she was off on one of her trips. So it fell to her second in command. And ultimately, while he’d known that Camille and I had a history, he didn’t know that we were not, at the time, speaking to each other. So he let me in so that I could hunt this ancient vampire. But in the end… it wasn’t me who killed that ancient vampire. It was that woman’s son.”

“So you saved him.”

Magnus shook his head. “Not quite. He had been Turned. But in his early fledgling strength, he had overcome the ancient, and killed him. And he was mourning what he was. Intensely. He wanted to stand out in the sunlight, and kill himself, feeling a damned creature. But Downworlders have souls, and I tried to tell him, tried to teach him. Eventually he acquiesced to surviving, if I would teach him to be almost human again - how to speak holy names, walk through graveyards, hold crosses, that sort of thing. So he came home with me. And in a few months, once he could do everything that he’d been able to do before, save for walk in the sun, he was able to go back to his family.” Magnus smiled a faint smile. “His mother was so thankful to me, for everything that I had done for her son. She was thankful for him every day, until she died. After a long and healthy life, where none of her other children were put at any sort of risk, because he was there to protect them. But it had been a mother’s love that had sent me out there to find him, and I knew I had to keep doing what I’d done for her son, so more families wouldn’t be destroyed.”

“What was her name?”

“Guadalupe. Guadalupe Santiago.”

Alec’s eyes widened. “Her son - that vampire - that’s Raphael, isn’t it?”

“Yes. So you see why he’s like family to me.”

Alec nodded. “I do. And I’m sorry, again, for attacking him. I - I was just seeing red after hearing what he was doing with my sister. But I know, I know, she went to him, and neither of them were thinking clearly then - I promise, if something comes up with him again, I’ll talk to you first before punching him out.”

“That’s a fine compromise, Alexander. But did you want to hear the rest of the story?”

“Yes, please.”

“So after helping Guadalupe reunite with Raphael, I knew that something needed to change. And I knew that I had the power to do it. Warlocks, if we survive past two centuries, we’re - we’re pretty damn powerful. Even younger than that, sometimes. And I - I was one of the ones who was more powerful at an even younger age, thanks to my parentage. So I knew that I was both old, and had my blood on my side when it came to challenging the High Warlock of the time. He’d only had the title for a few decades anyway, ever since Aldous - well, that’s a story for yet another time. But anyhow. The High Warlock at that time - and he claimed the Bronx for his title - his name was Marcus Slate. He was a pretty nasty piece of work, honestly, and most of the warlocks in the city simply avoided him. So I went around to all the warlocks I knew, spoke to them, tested the waters. Then called them all to meet at a local dance club one night, and I’d formally present the challenge to Marcus.

“Well, he didn’t show up. I claimed the position in the eyes of the other warlocks, but then as everyone dispersed after a good party, he arrived as I was leaving, and tried to level me right there, furious.”

“Level you?”

Magnus pulled his finger across his throat. “He tried to kill me, love.”

“Oh.” Alec’s eyes were wide again.

“Clearly it all worked out. I’m here, aren’t I? At any rate, he failed with his sneak attack. We threw fireballs at each other for awhile. I got bored. I told him if he really wanted to prove he was the better warlock, that we should have a challenge at creating the _laime_ potion - one of the hardest and most particular potions in all of our vast collection of spells.”

“I haven’t heard of this potion.”

“Most haven’t, since it is damn near impossible to make. And even riskier to use. But I’d been honing my potion skills, not much else to do when you’re cooped up in a two bedroom with a surly vampire. So I was willing to risk it.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, the effects are also… non-specific, shall we say. It is a potion that grants luck to the user, but Lady Luck is fickle, and that luck is rarely instantaneous. The powers that be frown on instant luck. So even if you make it successfully and imbibe it, it could still be decades before it bears fruit. And yet people still want it. So many have died taking unsuccessful brews of it.”

“Died?”

Magnus nodded seriously. “If you do it wrong, you die.”

“So I take it Marcus died?”

“He did. Horribly. I was there. He accepted my challenge haughtily, and decreed that we should bring our completed potions to another gathering, with all the warlocks, in a week’s time.

“I didn’t sleep for that entire week. I slaved over the potion for the entire time, barely eating. I created ten concoctions of the potion before I settled on one that seemed right. But even then - one dragonfly wing out of place, one stir in the wrong direction - and I still could have been dead. But I’d staked my reputation on it, and could only hope that I’d gotten every precise direction correct.

“So I went to the appointed place at the appointed time, potion in hand. With all of the warlocks of New York bearing witness, we downed our potions. He died painfully over the next few hours, writhing on the ground, while feeling like he was being devoured by ants from the inside out, while simultaneously being struck by lightning.” Magnus shuddered. “Most of the other warlocks didn’t have the stomach for it. I was already their leader, as far as they were concerned, Marcus’ death was a mere formality. The only one who stayed to the end with me was my friend Catarina, who had only recently arrived in the city.”

Magnus paused, taking some deep breaths and kissing Alec’s clavicle. “Catarina would have tried to heal him, because she’s that kind of person. But she knew that it wasn’t possible to do anything, not if that potion had taken hold. Once he was dead, I turned to her and said ‘well, I guess here’s my luck right here’. She told me to not be stupid, that being High Warlock was a responsibility and not a gift and _definitely_ not luck, and that I always needed to remember what had gotten me here, and what people would be willing to do to take it from me, if I was ever derelict in my duty.” He spun the ring on his finger. “She took this off of Marcus’ dead body, and gave it to me. Told me to wear it, and remember the heavy duty of responsibility that this position requires.”

Alec kissed Magnus’ chest again, trying to chase away the heavy memories, but it seemed that Magnus was fully embroiled in them now. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” Alec said softly. “I… you didn’t have to tell me that story. I’m sorry.”

“No, I did.” Magnus sighed heavily. “Because I’m worried now.”

“What do you mean?”

“After everything that happened, with the Seelie Queen and Valentine… I feel like such a fool. Siding with the Seelie Queen was a horrible idea, especially given that she ended up selling us out to Valentine at the end. I should have known that she would do something like that, and yet… and yet I was so hurt that I wanted to be able to trust her, even though the rational part of my mind knew I shouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Alec said plaintively. “You know I am.”

“I know you are. And I am too, for how I treated you. But I know that my bad judgment could come back to hurt us. The warlocks, the Downworld in general. If the Clave - if the Clave decides to go after the warlocks for the wards we put around New York -”

“I won’t let that happen.” Alec said evenly, taking Magnus’ hand. “I won’t let them hurt you. Any of you. Any missions that happen in New York have to go through me. And I will absolutely not okay any mission that involves apprehending any warlock - or any Downworlder for that matter - for fighting their own battle against Valentine. The Clave might care what happened outside its mandate, but I don’t. I know that you were doing what you thought you had to to survive. And I won’t let them punish any of you for fighting for your survival.”

“I hope you can hold off the Clave. But the warlocks don’t trust me as much as they did before. I’ve kept them safe for - for almost seventy years now. But the past few months - so many were killed when Valentine’s forces attacked when this all started, and more were lost since. And more than a few are angry that I’m in a relationship with you. So it is a reality that someone could step up to challenge me.”

“And what will you do if that happens?”

“I wouldn’t step away without a fight. But I also wouldn’t do something as foolhardy as Marcus did. If someone really did think they could take care of the city better - I do know that my judgment was faulty there. I admit that. And my bad judgment is not a hill I’d defend or die on. And I wouldn’t want to lose you.” Magnus stroked his fingers over Alec’s jaw. “So I guess it depends on what happens, if it happens and how it happens if it does. I hope you’ll still love me even if I’m not the High Warlock of Brooklyn anymore.”

“I love you now and I would love you then. I would even love you if you were a mundane. I love _you_ , Magnus. Your position has nothing to do with how much I love you.” Alec pressed a soft kiss to Magnus’ chest after each word, ending with a kiss on the lips.

They were still kissing, wrapped up together with only a sheet covering them from the waist down, when Catarina stormed into the apartment an hour later, ranting about someone named Lorenzo Rey, who had arrived in the city specifically to challenge Magnus’ title.

Everything was already in motion.

**Author's Note:**

> This could become a series. Who wants my interpretation of how things with Lorenzo Rey could go down, including a glimpse of my headcanon of Magnus and Lorenzo's past?


End file.
